Stand Alone Complex
by Duplicity-of-Ler
Summary: Set after Christmas Bowl. General idea: "I will take care of you even if I hurt myself doing so. / I'll scorch my world of one to create a world for two."


Stand Alone Complex

Stand Alone Complex

"We won," she said, tears streaming down her face, as she gave him a full-hearted hug. "I'm so glad you are alright."

And he thought, _Oh Fuck_.

"Well, I wasn't going to fucking die there, was I?" He said, pushing her with his hand on her shoulder, and walked away.

So this is how it feels to be needed by someone.

The main reason Hiruma didn't give shit about anyone was that everyone didn't, quite frankly, give shit about him. And he was ok with it. If somebody hated him, like wanted him if not dead, but at least seriously sick – even better. If someone really wanted him dead, like Fucking Dreadlocks – heh, they have to try to kill him first, and he'll prove them oh so wrong. He was more than happy to do so.

Of course there were exceptions, like Fatty and Old Man. But Musashi was even more of a lone wolf than Hiruma himself. He didn't really even need him; he just tagged along for company. And Kurita, well, Kurita was Kurita. And like everybody on the team, he needed Hiruma for his own selfish reasons. Using people was Hiruma's forte, so didn't object to it either.

But he wasn't going to admit that the moment she hugged him, he got scared for life.

His hand actually trembled in panic and he hoped she didn't notice it.

Fucking Old Man on the other hand was too fucking observant for his own good. One of these days someone is definitely going to shoot him for butting his head into other people's business with his oh-so-wise advises.

"And we all thought Sena was the fastest on the team," he said, sitting down next to him on the school's roof and lighting up a cigarette. "He may run from people, but for completely different reasons."

"Fuck do you want?" Hurima replied, maybe a bit too harsh then he wanted. Fucking Musashi meant well after all.

"If you find one good thing in your life, I suggest you should better take hold of it. It may slip right through your fingers."

"Christmas Bowl is over, so I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about."

"Sure," and he smiled this knowing smile of his.

In response, Hiruma took his gun, pointed right into the sky and pulled the trigger.

He didn't really know what he was going to do.

He made himself look busy. He knew she'll understand. He hoped she will.

Then, he really wished she won't.

It was snowing like hell the whole week before New Year. The weather man said it's going to be ever worse. Hiruma didn't really care. The only things he was running low on were gum and cigarettes. He smoked a lot lately.

Kurita called couple of times saying the team was organizing a New Year party. He declined all the invitations. It was better not to leave the apartment.

His fingers were freezing. He made them fly even faster over the keyboard. In front of his eyes, sore from harsh light of the screen in a dark room, the list of universities with American football teams was growing longer and longer. It may not be over yet. If he could get fucking shrimp in one of those, he could get others there too; his team will be still his team.

The doorbell ran.

Lifting his head up from the screen, Hiruma tried to think who it would be. The only ones who knew his address were Fatty and Musashi, and the second one wouldn't bother him at a time like this.

He stood up lankily and went to the front door. He turned the key and swayed it open.

"Fucking hell, I told you I don't want to participate in this fucking get-together…"

On the other side of the door, in the corridor, Mamori looked hesitantly into his annoyed face.

"Hiruma-kun?"

He stepped back. He told himself that's because the corridor lamp was too bright.

"Oh, it's you, fucking manager. What are you doing here?"

"We haven't seen you for a while and you didn't want to come to the party, so Musashi-san told me where you live and I came to give you this."

She opened her bag and took out something square, colorful and with a ribbon.

"What's this?"

"That's your New Year present."

Ah. So that's it. Package felt firm and heavy in his hand, and he looked at her questionably.

"Well, I can see that much, fucking manager. But what Is it?"

"I couldn't think of anything you'd like, so…"

He growled in annoyance and ripped the wrapping paper off.

His heart skipped a beat.

"A box of chewing gum?"

"They were selling-out, so I bought the whole box. Sorry, it may seem kind of cheap…"

"Did you buy cigarettes as well?"

"Cigarettes? No, I didn't. You need cigarettes?"

Fucking providence, was it? Not so precise, but could do.

"Nah, forget it."

He looked behind his back into the darkness of the room. This was awkward and awkward wasn't his style. She took his pose as her cue.

"I guess you are busy," she said uncertainly. "Just… Don't overwork yourself, Hiruma-kun."

He felt like he was zoning out, when she tiptoed to him and left a weightless kiss in the corner of his mouth.

"Happy New Year, Hiruma-kun," she turned around to leave.

He didn't know what happened next. Maybe too much adrenaline from all the skipped beats his heart, maybe Fucking Old Man's voice still ringing in his ears, maybe the fucking significant gum tightly in his hand, but her caught her arm, dragged her into his apartment, shut the front door and pushed her right against it, his lips tearing into hers. If kisses could scream, his would have probably screamed for her to get away from him, and why would she care if nobody ever really did. And then he breathed sharply, her lower lip escaping from between his teeth.

"I didn't get you anything, but maybe this would be good enough for a New Year's present," he whispered, their foreheads pressing together.

She didn't answer, but her fingers laced in gruff short hair at the base of his skull, fingertips of the other hand softly following his jaw line, as she kissed him back. This feeling burned through him, spreading rapidly to his cheeks, tensed shoulders, chest, along his spine, till his knees buckled, and he landed on the floor, pulling her down on his lap, her back still firm against the front door. He pressed his face into her shoulder, desperately trying to catch breath.

"Where the hell have you been.."

…_All these years_, he wanted to add, but couldn't bring himself to say it.

He could feel her warm breath catching on the tip of his ear. It twitched slightly.

"I was buying you twenty packs of sugar-free gum." She answered.

He laughed into the crook of her heck.

And thought, _Oh Fuck_.

Morning greeted him with an empty bed.

He sat up and his hand lingered over almost cold sheets where she laid the night before.

Hiruma got out of the bed, noticing that her clothes weren't there. His yesterday's shirt wasn't either.

In the bathroom the washing machine was rocking softly. A discarded towel rested as the bottom of the laundry bin.

The main room was lighter (she open the curtains), visibly cleaner and his ashtrays were emptied, but her coat, which he almost ripped from her yesterday was missing as well.

The box of gum was standing on the table like a reminder of what happened. A bitter thought to throw it out of the window like nothing ever happened crossed his mind, but he just ripped it open, took out a pack and popped a piece of gum into his mouth.

He looked out of the window to see the white roofs and bare trees, Christmas lights swinging back and forth in the wind. He popped the gum bubble pensively.

Well, it was good while it lasted.

The kitchen door opened and Hiruma's next bubble plastered on his face.

She entered the room, wearing his old sweater which was way too big, but looked better on her than all her clothes all together. She handed him a cup of black coffee and gave out a small laugh when he sucked gum back into his mouth.

And then she smiled.

"Happy New Year, Yoichi."

And he thought,

_This is going to be__ a fucking happy year indeed._


End file.
